


the Tilt Shift

by rkvian



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Begrudged Team Mates to, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Miraith Centric, alphabet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-03-17 21:11:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkvian/pseuds/rkvian
Summary: Mirage and Wraith in twenty six moments, spanning more than three years of Apex Games.





	1. A to M

**Author's Note:**

> this fanfic is in editing for three months at this point. no other excuses other than being a procrastinator and a perfectionist sucks so bad. split in 2 parts cause it's too long
> 
> also words that are three months old:  
> the casual touches, the one-upmanship, the banter, and the way she looks at him and then smiles. how do i not ship them?

**A**

A directional ping chimed from her communicator, barely audible above the chaos of gunfire and explosion in the Artillery warehouse just a few meters shy from where she was.

Wraith turned to the marked location, breaking away from her own plan on scouring more bullets for the Prowler almost useless in its holster. Her side ached—a broken rib maybe, but she had neither the supplies nor the time to slow down. Pathfinder was right. Hotdrops are warzones, but at least she—

—rounded a corner, only to come face to face with a burly man carrying a Hemlok.

For a split second, she and her opponent just stared at each other in surprise, but it all came down to the first to draw their gun, shoot, and strafe for cover.

The blue hardlight of his body shield was cracking from the sporadic bursts of heavy ammo each time she peeked, careful not to waste any bullets. Her armor wasn't any better, a bullet or two away from the same fate. One last barrage and his hardlight shattered audibly, but it was in front of his eyes the Prowler clicked, empty before it could finish the job. A malicious grin broke across his face, and Wraith dove for cover as single fire bullets chased her.

There is a mantra of patience beyond the wild beating of her heart, listening to the weight of him three feet on to her when a noisy set of footsteps made both of them still and glance at their side.

Her squad mate is there running towards her, and her mouth fell open as her enemy fired at him—

—only to watch him disintegrate before their eyes.

A decoy.

It was all the distraction she needed, springing back into action, throwing her weight forward and hurling a fist that hit the man square at the jaw, sending him tumbling back clutching his face with an indignant cry. Without waiting for him to recover, she followed up with swift blow against his solar plexus, and another to his throat. 

She jerked away before he could collapse against her, and twisted on her feet to the distinct sound of a Devotion priming. Before she could move another muscle, bullets whizzed past her into another's hardlight, giving her enough time to phase into a different cover.

The rapid fire of energy bullets, a Peacekeeper going off and then a brash, “Boom! Whole squad down.”

It’s  _that_  guy.

She breathed in relief at the realization, raising a hand from her side and noted the wetness to be unsurprisingly blood. The adrenaline still pumping under her skin was probably the only reason she couldn't feel the brunt of it.

“Heard you had a habit of leaving. Never thought it was this bad though.”

Mirage sought her at her ping, dropping boxes of heavy ammo and a Med kit. He clicked his tongue dramatically, resuming a laid-back standpoint, but his eyes were keeping track of the field, “Not even a thank you for your hero?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a flash of surprise flitting across his face that was gone at the next blink, but Wraith focused on her wrist instead, injecting the needle into her system before she could think twice about it.

"You’re the only one I’ve met so far ludico-ludocrous-ah, crazy enough to run into that—” he nodded to the main building at their side, “—knowing there’s two teams who beat us to it.”

“Teams who had as much as we did at drop.” She exhaled steadily, giving the tonic time to spread. “I took care of them.”

“Oh _yeah_ , no, I get it.” The tone of his voice had a sudden taunting lilt to it, and she looked up to meet his gaze. It should be patronizing, but it seemed more like exasperation. “Your life’s worth a couple of thoroughly mined data banks?”

 _That_  sent an instant heady surge of anger into her veins: frustration at the lack of useful documents, irritation at the carelessness of her injury, and now him being unnecessarily nosy.

“I wasn’t data mining—”

“Sure you ain’t.”

“—but even if I was, it’s not of your damn business.”

“Y’know we can see you on the map, right?”

Wraith rose to her full height, ignoring the sudden vertigo as she drew closer to his face, “I know a place to send you that  _isn’t_  on the map.”

He didn’t buy the threat—the Game Contract strictly prohibits friendly fire—so it wasn’t a surprise Mirage made no effort to move, lifting an eye brow and then smirking like he’s challenging her to do it.

She’s about two seconds from damning her priorities when another ping resonated between them, grounding them back to reality.

“Path’s in place.” He declared by way of explanation, cocking his shotgun and then gestured to the now quiet Artillery warehouse with a mood way too chipper for their situation. “What do you say we go in and check if anyone wants to be friends, Kill Leader?”

 

**B**

Mirage sat up with a start, blinking at the first light of dawn against the walls of the Cascade building they’ve bunkered for the night. Path was by the wall near him, monitor at self-maintenance, rest for a MRVN—something he and Wraith insisted on to make fair for the whole squad.

The Plan should’ve been two hours of sleep, and then the one on watch will switch with the next person.

Path was first, Wraith came next, and he should’ve been last—but just one glance across the room and it became obvious why she never woke him up.

The Command Center’s screen displays were turned on, set on dimmest brightness. Panels were pulled open, wires sparking from ripped pieces. She’s in the middle of it all, jaw set as she pressed buttons after buttons.

Mirage rose on his feet with as much stealth he could muster, intent on catching what she was up to before she could bat him away.

How can anyone not be curious in his place, really? She dropped solo in a place with six enemies, risked dying alone. To achieve what? Besides, they needed to talk. He had dealt with a lot of people over the number of Games he's participated in, and she happened to be the exact kind of team mate he disliked the most: an uncaring risk taker with no problems about separating from the group.

He slowed once he could read the strings of words on the interface.

He expected base locations or mission reports—standard things a mercenary can sell. Instead, she’s trying to crack into human resources division, status reports and…it sort of clicks.

She’s looking for someone.

Friend? Family? A boyfriend?

The monitor beeped in red, and she breathed out in irritation. That was the moment she glanced at him, but she didn't look surprised. Instead, she muttered a dismissive, “Go back to sleep.”

"You're doing it wrong."

He dropped all pretense of sneaking, approaching her languidly. While she didn't make any effort to move away, her eyes narrowed sharply. He's thinking....like a predator ready to strike. Kinda cute, really.

Mirage turned to the lines on the screen she was working on. "I had a brother in the Milita who specialized in code breaking, and while I wasn't privy to too much information, I'm pretty sure the IMC don't use Nova."

From the way her eyebrows furrowed, it was clear she's thought of it. "What's your suggestion then?"

"Assuming you have an idea ‘bout the key, try using Vega or Centauri."

She nodded, retracting rows of lines to type another set of decryption. “I know Vega.”

“Good.”

"You're trying to help me."

He blinked at the statement, startled into a laugh. "Well, yeah, that's what we do when a team mate's in a pinch. We help each other."

She has this look on her face, like's she's trying to decide whether or not to trust him. Frankly, it stings a bit. He's never felt the need to prove himself for a very long time. But then Wraith says:

"I was. Data mining earlier, I mean. But I'm not going to apologize."

And he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could at her answer, at this subtle offering of trust. "Don't really expect you to."

They were both quiet, and he thought, now’s the best time as any to reel the topic in.

“Look,” he began in the most casual tone he could muster, “you can’t keep staring at Path and I like you’re expecting we’d suddenly betray you. If we want to win—and I really do, I don’t know about you—we need a truce.”

Wraith paused on her work, looking a lot less hostile now. "Fine, just don’t ask any questions."

"You’ve no idea how much I want to, _but_ I promise I won't." Pushing away to give her some space, he muttered a cheeky, “I’ll go scout the area while we wait for Path to wake up. After all, someone’s too busy to do their job.”

“I would’ve known.”

He's seen the proof of it—the first he heard of her was her debut fight alongside Bloodhound and Gibraltar. With how quick she was on her foot rivaling Bloodhound’s years of experience; he doesn’t have any doubt about that.

Still, Mirage was halfway across the room before he had the guts to speak again, turning around to walk backwards. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“I think you’ll find whoever it is you’re looking for.”

Wraith flinched, ocean eyes widening and lips parting slightly. Her throat bobbed when she turned back to the monitor, muttering the words, “Thank you.”

Of all things, that surprises her.

He would have gloated about it, if it didn’t look like it meant a lot.

 

**C**

They’re down to half the squads remaining, and the current strategy was quick ambush. Find an enemy team, knock the members out one by one, and search for another until they’ve managed to dust them all. At least, that’s what they’re supposed to do.

This current one sort of didn’t go so well for him.

Which is maybe an understatement?

Because he doesn’t know which is worse: his broken ankle or his lungs feeling like it’s about to burst. Has he mentioned the part about being knocked on the ground and drowning in a sea of toxic green gas?

He’s convinced then he’s going to die then, staring up at a behemoth of a man in a gas mask muttering words he could barely understand. There is no fear in him, just annoyance that of all the times he’d managed to clutch a situation this is how he’d go down.

Poisoned by a lunatic with a knack for evil speeches.

But in a stroke of luck for someone like him, the man’s attention snapped somewhere else. There is a flash and Wraith is there by the dude’s side, hurling Gas Man into the magic rift she’s created. _Magic_ , exclaimed his addled brain, _rift_.

Then silence.

She turned to him, crouching over to offer a hand; and he stared at it, briefly, thinking about just days ago he was confident she would’ve ignored his pings and take pleasure in watching him suffer.

“You alright?”

It was an unfair assumption.

Banishing the thoughts, Mirage reached for her wrist as she clamped her hand around his, pulling him to his feet.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Feel like death though, but alright.”

“Good. So, what was it you said about communication again?”

A groan, “He baited me into a trap. I ain’t doing it again, believe me.”

“You better. You could have died here.”

He didn’t miss the way her left arm was shaking when she opened another rift, nor the look in her eyes when she turned to him. It was caprico—capro—capriocus—he forced a laugh, “Dying would’ve been  _very_  bad.”

 

**D**

“Hey friend, look, it’s another of those dolls you have been targeting.”

“Oh,  _no_.” Wraith turned to Mirage already aiming his Wingman, one loud crack echoing on the tip of the island—

“Headshot.” He grinned, and then crinkled his nose at the look she gave him. “What? That was just a bullet for fun.”

“A bullet you could’ve put to use. Come on, we need to move before other teams get a chance to jump us here.”

“Friends, I believe a leviathan is coming.”

“Oh c’mon. One isn’t even enough to crack a body shield. Besides, we've been sitting ducks the whole day, it’s about time we get to stretch our legs.”

“It is if you hit them on the head. And I prefer getting the first shot in.”

“Huh, I suppose it is, unless they're wearing an Epic Grade—agh, now you’ve made things confusing.”

“What? How is that confusi…”

The words died in her throat at the colossal shadow eclipsing the sun on the three of them, rising steadily from the depths of the ocean. It didn’t stop at heights she expected it to, no, it continued to tower until she was pretty sure anyone from the whole island could see it.

“What the heck?” Was the first set of intelligible words out of Mirage’s mouth.

“Ah.” Was Path’s, and ever the optimist, he added, “It does not seem aggressive at this time.”

“I’m surprised it’s not aggressive.” Were hers, “Because that is  _not_  a leviathan.”

“Yeah, it looks like a giant di—”

“ _Don’t you dare say it._ ”

Mirage grinned wolfishly, “I was going to say dinosaur.”

“Sure, you were.”

“I am somehow both hurt and unsurprised you don’t believe me.”

 

**E**

The first time he got her to smile at him, he didn’t even do it on purpose.

It’s that ecstatic moment after a really good fight—when things go according to their plan; the dust settles and all of them are wounded but safe and accounted for. They were going through loots, and he’s babbling on and on about a topic he can no longer recall exactly.

Something about comparing the battle with breaking an antique teacup as a child, about hiding in a tree and falling down by breaking a branch, about pretending he didn’t do anything despite the scratches of blood swallowing the right side of his face.

These were memories he held close to his heart—littlest things with the biggest impact, and honestly he doesn't know why he brought it up to begin with. He didn’t even think she was listening until he looked up and found her watching him amusedly.

“Your real name’s Elliott?”

“Uh, well, yeah. Elliott. Elliott Witt. That’s me. That’s my name.”

He’s never going to admit to it if anyone asked him now. He’ll just play cool until the topic changes  _but at that moment_ , when her lips curved into a genuine smile and his heart leapt in his chest, he thought, he can tell her his life story just to see that look on her again.

That’s…that’s not something you think about your squad mate, is it?

 

**F**

An exasperated exhale, “Don’t you ever get tired of talking?”

“No. Definitely not. Anything to keep myself from panicking.”

Wraith frowned, drawing her head away from the sniper scope as she lowered the Triple Take off her shoulders.

“Why would you panic?”

It’s deep into the night, an hour into her night-watch, and Mirage was on the floor next to the wooden board she used to climb the open-ceiling. She doesn’t see any sign of the nervousness in him—just the same chipper mood he had at the beginning of the Game four days ago.

“Nah, I’m just kidding, I’m not panicking. But three other squads left, y’know?”

“You think we’ll lose?”

“There’s always a possibility that we can lose. We can walk out of this place right now and not notice a supply package drop on our heads, boom. Insta-death.”

She crinkled her nose. “That can’t be possible.”

“Yeah, it is. Holy shit, haven’t you watched the top two squads around three—wait, four seasons ago?”

“No.”

“Well, one of the dirtiest wins ever won. They’re on round 7, ring’s a few feet across. Someone called in a supply package and then team mate kicked the enemy squad into the drop zone and _squish_. A lot called it was an undeserved victory ‘cause it ain't won out of mad skills.”

“What do you have to say about it?”

“Wit.” Mirage pointed at his temple. “Use anything you can to your advantage. A win’s a win after all.”

She nodded. “Makes sense.”

He leaned his head against the wall and exhaled evenly, “Hope we get the same chance to show off though. I’m gonna want me some seven course pork chops when this is over.”

Wraith blinked at the sudden realization:

It’s a façade.

The whole time, his chipper attitude was this same exhausted Mirage who looked like he doesn't even know why he's still here and wanted nothing more than to turn his back and leave for good. It’s unnerving to see him in such a different light from the man all spunk and bravado; unnerving too, that she’s been around him long enough to realize something so personal.

“We’ll win.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Now who’s being overconfident?”

“You said it yourself once—your brain, Path’s maneuvers, and my executions—it’s more than enough to get us through. We just have to work together.”

Wraith didn’t know exactly  _how_  those words managed to cheer him up, but he’s grinning brightly at her now. So much so that she had to force herself to look away and heave the weapon back on her shoulder as a distraction.

“Go to sleep.”

“You’ll wake me up when it’s my turn?”

Sunrise at the Cascades feels like it’s a lifetime ago, and she nodded.

 

**G**

Victory didn’t taste like victory when they were declared the Season’s Apex Champions.

It tasted like blood and gunpowder, felt like a hand clenched against her busted gut, sounded nothing but Path making odd wheezing noises from damage and Mirage muttering a steady cocktail of forced witticism as he injected shot after shot of syringes into her veins.

She knew what kind of image she made when they found her, slumped against the wall of a cabin helping two people from different teams stain the wooden flooring an abstract painting of blood. It was the final battle and they were sandwiched between two squads, and honestly, they were lucky to even survive at…

“Wraith, hey. Don’t give up on me now.”

Something nudged against her face, and she blinked hazily, not even realizing she had closed her eyes. They weren’t in the cabin anymore. They were somewhere bright, and it occurred to her he was carrying her with a hand under her legs and the other supporting her back.

The nonchalance in Mirage’s gait is  _gone_  and what is left in its place is sheer desperation. She pressed her head against his scarf, hiding her face from the sunlight.

“You took too long.”

“Well _sorry_ ," he muttered in the smarmiest voice she's ever heard him use, "I was a bit busy clutching the game for the whole team.”

The back of her hand slapped against his chest lightly, and his shoulder shook with breathless laughter and something else entirely— _relief_.

He went on gabbling about what happened, how it happened, and Wraith was content listening to him talk.

 

**H**

_you disappeared on me. didn’t even say goodbye :(_

The thing about getting used to people is that the moment they disappear, life goes off-kilter. You knew what you used to do to occupy time and you enjoyed it. Then you meet those people and when they’re gone, you’re left trying to put your life back together for any semblance of normalcy.

It isn’t like he has abandonment issues…okay fine _,_ maybe he does have  _some_  abandonment issues. He just preferred to know when someone planned to leave so he can at least steel himself from becoming too attached.

Now Mirage—well, that’s him—he absolutely  _loved_  being in the center of things. He reveled in it. Maybe the hunger did stem from being the youngest of four siblings, but he prefers to think it’s because he genuinely likes meeting new people and getting to know them.

And being one of three Champions of the Apex Games’ latest season, he did. The gala the Game Masters are throwing in their honor meant red carpets and interviews and flashing cameras. Normally, he’d be out among the crowd building a wilder network of contacts. But right now:

His phone buzzed in notification.  _I thought you loved the attention._

_i didnt win the game on my own :(_

_Everybody knows that._   _How’s Path?_

He glanced around the sea of people looking for the MRVN, and sure enough, found him conversing animatedly with several people by the refreshments.  _yeaaaah i’m proud to say our young man’s a big boy now_

 _Don’t let him get into trouble._ She added, _Or better yet, remind him not to let you get in trouble._

_HA YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE >:D should’ve stayed if you wanted to keep me in line_

Speeches and dances, and normalcy would be him busy flirting, choosing who to take home tonight to celebrate the after party on bed. Instead, his night is with his phone, trading banter and stories well into the night.

_so are we going to see you again?_

_I’ll drop by the pub you work at when I have time._

_you know where it is?_

_You should be more surprised if I don't. Your personal information is all over the news. Track records. Game analyses._ An additional message,  _They even say I have better aim than you_

A snort escaped his lips.  _did they even watch the same game?_

_They’ve gotten all your good angles, so I think so._

_omg are you flirting with me?_

_No. I’m just saying it’s the right game. They just happen to think I’m better_

He broke out snickering, ignoring the questioning looks he got on the way back to the Housing Facility. _is that a sparring offer? >:(_

_And have me deal with your bruised ego?_

_ohohoho game on. better stay in top condition wherever it is you’re going_

She does visit, inconsistently over the course of ten months. On all occasions the pub goes eerily quiet and each time, his heart lodges in his throat and drops to his stomach whenever he finds her walking towards him. Ben, his co-bartender, even mentioned her dropping by twice on weeks he’s on leave to visit his Mother.

This, whatever this is between them—friendship? Companionship?—it’s strange. In a way he doesn’t really know how to describe except—

It feels a little like welcoming someone home.

 

**I**

“I spy with my little eye…something beautiful.”

“Clear skies?”

“Nope.”

“The way ocean water refracts light?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

“You have to guess it. That’s kinda the point of the game.”

Her nose crinkled as she sank further into the seat. “Remind me again why I’m humoring you.”

“Cause we’re both a little nervous the Game’s starting in ten.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Wraith, your legs are shaking.”

“That’s  _your_  legs shaking next to mine.”

**Introducing your Champions:**

“Hey!” Path beamed, up pointing a finger at the banners in front of the Common Area of the Drop Ship, their pictures flashing on screen. “That’s me.”

The squads sitting near the MRVN gasped, comically drawing themselves as far as they could without vacating their seats. Mirage had the urge to roll his eyes and tell them they didn’t have to treat Path like he’s a disease, but then their resident MRVN says—

“Remember me friends.” In a very happy go lucky tone, “I may kill you.”

There is a collective intake of strangled noises, and he snickered when turned to Wraith hiding a grin in her scarf. He nudged her side, “Quick answer me.”

“We’re still playing? I don’t know. I—”

She suddenly halted, giving him a deadpan look.

“It’s you, isn’t it.”

He winked, giving her the finger guns. “You got it.”

 

**J**

_It’s not safe here,_ and  _someone’s been here._

When was the last time she ignored the voices from the void?

Her knees are sliding down the ravine and towards the cabin at the bottom, tracking Mirage’s last location before he cancelled his ping. For someone tech savvy, she knows he’s never mispinged before, whether for loot, enemies, or directions. So it could mean something else.

And it does.

“Ha,  _see_.”

She walked in at the last segment of the room to find him the floor, his Peacekeeper aimed at the back of his head with items strewn around him and his assailant, including his banner shattered at the screen.

“I told you she’ll come. I told you that you meant more to her than you think.”

For the first time since she met him, there is none of the laid-back lollygagging persona on Mirage’s stature. His body is rigid, jaw clenched, and he’s smiling at the woman but it isn’t cheeky—it’s dangerous.

She must’ve noticed because her head canted to Wraith instead. “Lower your gun.”

“Lower yours first.”

“I have Mirage on his knees, sweetheart. I’m very angry right now and I can’t promise you I won’t accidentally shoot him if you try to shoot me.” It was the truth. The angle available to her isn’t enough for an instant kill. “Now lower your  _fucking_  gun.”

 _No, shoot._  The voices tell her.  _Finish her now._

Mirage barked a humorless laugh, “If you really wanted to get rid of me, I think you had more chance if you send her away. You know who I am. You know who she is. You think you can get out of here alive with both—”

The woman whipped the back of his head with the shotgun, hissing in renewed anger. “One more attempt at yapping and I’ll make sure to blow your tongue off first before I finish you.”

_You have a clear shot._

_He can die._

_She’ll be dead too._

She gritted her teeth, whacked by the sudden amalgamation of voices pounding and scratching in her head—then the sudden flare of familiar ache at the base of her skull she hadn’t felt in years. When was the last time this happened?

Her trigger finger’s shaking, squeezing—

_I can’t do it._

_You will._

—she exhaled a stuttering breath and lowered her weapon.

“At least one of you doesn’t need a lot of convincing.” The woman let out a deranged laugh. “Weapons. All of it. Throw it on the ground.”

_It’s not safe._

_You will die._

Mirage is looking at her with an expression she can’t explain, and it’s easier to cooperate with her eyes fixed on him. She shrugged off her holsters, dropping both her Wingman and R-99, along all her ammos on the ground.

“Your banner too.”

Her hand reached out for it but her fingers halted midway—there are memories there. They have stored conversations in it she’d saved over the year which had gotten her through a lot of rock bottoms and sleepless nights.

“Now, Wraith. I won’t ask again.”

It soared in the air and dropped in front of Mirage, and the woman didn’t hesitate to shoot it point blank twice, shattering it completely.

She kept her face fairly blank then, a feat too easy from the intense throbbing behind her eyes. “It’s against the Game Contract to break banners.”

“You think I care? I waited a year for this.” The woman kicked Mirage square on the back, sending him on the floor with a pained grunt. Wraith bit her inner cheek, swearing in her head the woman’s not leaving this house alive. “You don’t remember him Wraith, but I remember what you did. He’s trying to escape, not even fighting anymore but you still shot him just for scores, you _sick freak_.”

_You’ll watch him die._

His head snapped around, “So that’s what this is about? Revenge?”

_And then she’ll kill you._

“No, justice.” The woman pointed the muzzle against his forehead, but her eyes drifted to Wraith. “My boyfriend’s life for yours.”

_You should’ve killed her first—_

_It’s not going to end like this._

She lunged at Mirage, yanking the back of his collar and twisting them around. The brunt spray shattered her body shield instantly, her fingers digging into his shoulder and arm at the shrapnel that pierced her lower back. The first thought in her head was,  _Not again,_ but her foot movement managed to discreetly bring her discarded Wingman to Mirage’s grasp and…

He’s staring at her in complete shock.

The woman loved the display, barking another crazed laugh. “This doesn’t look like friendship to me.”

“Grenade.” He whispered in a rasp. Her arms wrapped around him, fingers reaching out to where he kept it.

“Portal, outside.” She whispered back.

They said at the same time, “In one.”

“No matter. You two can die together.”

A rift opened at the burst of ache on her left arm, the same time Mirage fired sharp shots that made the woman cry in mixed pain and anger. Wraith hooked a finger on the grenade pin just as he threw it, and in one fluid motion, she yanked him with her into the waiting portal.

It landed them several meters outside, staring the aftermath of the explosion with heaving chests and adrenaline singing beneath their skins. They can’t stay out here; not after being rendered weaponless, not after alerting other squads to their location.

But Mirage refused to move immediately, burying his head against her shoulders and tightening his arms around her. His voice was hoarse when he said softly, “Please don’t do that again.”

She hugged him just as tight, only she didn’t have the guts to say  _I can’t let you die._

 

**K**

The assholes in her head were still trying to get her to regret what she did. It’s the morning after and she could still barely move her arm, and the headache she’s trying to push through kept making her eyes unable to focus.

“What are you looking at?”

Mirage’s descending the stairs, her blood on the side of his face wiped clean. Her initial reaction was to say  _Nothing_  and end the conversation there. It wouldn’t have been the first time that kind of ender happened, it wouldn’t even be somewhere around the fifth.

Instead, she shrugged a shoulder and turned away from the window. “Have I ever told you how many times I see you across the field and follow you on instinct but it turns out it’s only your decoy?”

“What?” The confession startled a laugh from him. “No way.”

“Yes.”

“Damn, I would’ve paid to see that happen in person.” One last boot off the stairs, and he’s standing near her now. Far enough to give her space, but close that she can touch him if she reached out. His lips curved into a smile, genuine, from warmth of his eyes. “I can teach you the easiest way to spot the difference between us, if you want.”

She nodded. “Until Path gets back from the beacon, at least.”

“Normally, I’d say keep an eye on my projectors, but I know it ain't viable when we’re on the field.” Mirage moved to stand next to her and then he raised a finger, gesturing it in front of them. Sure enough, an exact cheeky replica of him appeared, grinning at her with hands on his hips.

“The me you see standing there—he’s called a Keyframe.” He said, mirroring his clone’s pose. “You’ve seen all the awesome things he can do in parties—he’s also me after all—but in battle all he does is copy my actions to where I want him to go. He doesn’t change directions.”

She stepped towards his replica striking a gaudy pose and winking at her.

“There’s an outline to him, if you look closely.”

There is, and she reached out to touch—the clone gave a momentarily look of panic—before disintegrating.

He rubbed the back of his head bashfully.  “It’s possible to make stronger holograms but well, let’s just say I’m still too inexperienced to do it. Long story short, outline or if the me you see doesn’t look back at you, it’s not me.” The silence in the room made him frown. “Something’s bothering you.”

She exhaled, looking back at him again. “We can’t keep huddling around Path on the battle field because we’ll eventually become liabilities to him, especially considering his skill set.”

For a moment, she expected his surprise at the turn of topic. Instead, Mirage nodded grimly, as if he too had been thinking about it for a while.

“What do you suggest then?”

“We learn to fight the way we used to without pings. Right now, we can talk about scenarios we get into. Tell me how you approach gun fights, and I can tell you how I do it. Tell me your tells, when you go aggressive, or when you wait for enemies to come to us.”

His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. “This ain't a way for you to win your money back from poker, is it?”

And just like that, he shattered the brewing tension.

 

**L**

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You’re staring.”

Wraith blinked. “Was I?”

“Yes. It’s a bit, uh, destr—distracting. That’s the word.”

She doesn’t look angry, but her face flushed a bright red. “You have a wound on your lips.”

It’s his turn to be surprised.

“Yeah. From earlier, before Bangalore,” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and over the split.  “I made the kill while sliding down the stairs. Should’ve seen it, I was epic.”

“You should heal it.”

“Nah. It’s fine. It’s just a split lip. I’ll live.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, nodding passively as she turned away.

He thought nothing about it—she’s worried. Hell, he’s just as worried about her ever since the... But then he catches her licking her own lips and his heart  _stuttered_.

 

**M**

Mirage is many things. In video clippings and interviews, he’s confident and larger than life. He’s the type of person that can stand out by walking into a room, or could approach a group of strangers and find acquaintances in them. He acts like an idiot at times and his slight stutter makes him sound goofy, but he’s competent in the endeavors he committed himself to, and much more insightful than anyone had given him credit for.

He’s an entirely different person to have on the battle field.

Sure, the arrogance and one-liners are still there, but he carries the team strategy and his moves are calculated, stemming from a set of tactics that goes with the ability to have someone doubt their very eyes. He’s reactive, quick-witted, and he’s the only other person she’s met so far that has the reflexes to avoid the same things she could.

But she’s  _never_  seen him hesitate before.

They’re in the last two squads, chasing one person left, and Path and her sees the very moment he cornered the remaining man, aim his Spitfire and all of a sudden,  _freeze_. The man threw him an abhorrent look and reached for his weapon, but Path has him beaten him to a shot.

 **We have a winner** , the announcer declared.

“Hey.” He still hasn’t moved. “You okay?”

He looks so shaken and out of it that he flinched away from her when she reached out to touch his arm. A pang of dread drifted onto his face when he realized what he did, and this time he reached out to touch her wrist and rubbed it with his thumb, as if comforting her was enough to comfort him. She didn’t pull away.

Later, when they’re in the Courier ship on their way back to the main land, he says softly, “I thought he was my brother.”

Path, bless him, flashes the question mark on his screen to an exclamation point. “He does have similar facial recognition as you, friend.”

And in typical Mirage fashion, he shakes the problem off with a quip and smirk—the one with only a corner of his lips lifting that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.

It feels oddly hollow now to see him smile that way.


	2. N - Z

**N**

“Add the beans, along with the smashed garlic, half a cup of warm water, a pinch of salt, and we let it cook over low heat for a while.”

“How long?”

The lid lowered on the pan clangs lightly. “Three minutes, maybe.”

Mirage turned to her with both hands on his hips, hair tousled and dressed in nothing but an apron with his grinning face on it and the sweatpants he wore to bed.

It’s been two days since the Apex Games, and here she is barefoot in the Housing kitchen at four am watching him cook something called _Huevos Rancheros_. She knows why he’s here—her room is right across from his—and she knows exactly why he’s trying to distract himself by doing something methodological.

Wraith deals with her nightmares by not sleeping. Mirage deals with his by pretending it doesn’t exist.

“Keep an eye on it, will you?” He walked over to the cupboards, rummaging through barely touched supplies and humming underneath his breath.

She absolutely _loathes_ this.

This forced cheer, forced blitheness—like she wasn’t sick in the stomach banging on his door in the middle of the night, hearing him gasping for breath and clawing on his arms when she found him wild eyed on the verge of a break down.

She's known this for over a year, witnessing the beginning of it at Cascades during sleeping rotations at their first Game together. And, well, how exactly was she supposed to help him when she can’t even help herself? How can she comfort him, ask openness from him when she can’t even give it in return?

So…they have to start somewhere.

“You know I can’t sleep.”

The musculature of his back and arms tensed the moment the words were confessed. Wraith watched as he lowered his hands on the counter, drumming his fingers briefly as if considering whether or not he wanted to continue the conversation.

“Why not?”

“Nightmares. Most of the time, I hear voices. It’s, when I hear them at night, I, I don’t—” She swallowed thickly, shaking her head once. Honesty is never easy, is it? “I can’t sleep because sometimes they’re too loud. And my arm, it hurts. A lot. It always does actually, I just learned how to deal with it. But... Most of the time it’s easier not to sleep at all.”

His fingers halted, and he made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. “Why are you suddenly telling me this?”

The pitter patter of her bare feet against tiled floors made him start to turn around, but she placed both of her hands on his shoulders, pressing her forehead against the square of his back.

“Elliott, I’m worried about you."

The tautness on the strings of his muscles snapped, and he bowed his head shaking, swallowing mouthfuls of air in attempt to control his breathing. It’s okay, she wanted to show him, better in actions instead of words, it’s okay. He pushed against the counter, turning to wrap his arms around her, and then he—

“ _Shit_.”

“What?” Her eyes snapped to his, watery and just as surprised.

“The black beans, Wraith. It’s _burning_.”

She paused, taking a deep breath, and _holy shit_ it is. Breaking into a short sprint to the stove, she reached for the knob and then the gas valve, grabbing a pot holder and depositing the carbonized mess to the sink.

There was a few second of silence between them, blinking at the lurch of emotions.

It sizzled under cold water.

“Not a word.”

Not a word but his lips twitched upwards until he was grinning cheekily from ear to ear, breaking into a fit of barely stifled laughter that made her smile.

This didn’t fix anything instantly. There will still be a lot of sleepless nights for her, and he’ll probably continue making it seem he can’t get up from bed because he’s lazy. But right now, as he calmed down and pulled her in for another hug, and as she stood on the tip of her toes and nestled her face against the crook of his neck, Wraith knows it’s a start.

 

**O**

“Can I join now?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

“Path, we’ve told you why we can’t spar with you.”

“Yeah man, you’re going to break us. Like twicks. Stigs. I mean, sticks. Or is it twigs?”

A sad face appeared on his body monitor, “But Aleksandra said I can be very gentle.”

Wraith choked on a breath. Mirage tripped on his own feet.

“Aleksandra said _what_?”

“Oooh boy, did you just—did he just—”

“Yes, friends. I have committed the coitus with a human being.”

“Can you—do you even have a—”

“Where’s this Aleksandra now?”

“Holy shit, I don’t know what to feel about this.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“How was it? Is she a good la—ow! We're on a time out, Wraith!”

“Did she force you?”

“No. It was a,” The face on the MRVN’s monitor turned heart eyes, “one night stand. She said it was a normal way to blow off steam between friends. I was not steaming at the time but it was very pleasurable.”

“ _Mirage_.”

"I know! He's gotten laid!" He clapped Path on the back, "I'm proud of you man."

"Are you serious?"

" _What_?"

“You know the attention the Games get. She could’ve been baiting him to a false sense of security and then take advantage of him.”

“Or, y’know, she could be a nice lady who’s taken a genuine romantic interest on him, our friend, who is standing right here with us, capable of deciding for himself.”

"That's not what I meant! I—can we start the topic over?"

"No wait. Are—are you conceding? Who are you and what have you done to Wraith?"

"I'm not conceding anything; this is about Path and Aleksandra. Wraith just happens to be concerned. You trust people so easily."

"And you don't trust anyone at all. Apart from us. So I guess you do trust people, which is us and, well. Shit, where am I going with this again? I swear I had a point."

"You're incorrigible."

“Friends?”

“What?” Both of them asked, turning to the MRVN at the same time.

“You seem moments away from steaming.” Path’s raised his index finger, “My recommendation: a One Night Stand. Based on personal data, it's a mutually beneficial experience.”

Mirage would’ve laughed _long and hard_ if Wraith hadn’t made that noise of embarrassment. It wouldn’t have brought images up to the forefront of his mind, and wouldn’t have made him wonder what kind of other noises she can make if he—

Oh no.

 

**P**

Half of him is covered in Angel City’s neon lights, the other, in clean white. It's past midnight, his bar-tending shift just ended, and they’re walking the expanse of the parking lot to his apartment complex.

It's moments like these she forgets to remember there's supposed to be a line she shouldn't cross; she looks at him thinks, what would it be like if I was normal? If we met a different way? _If I told you_?

He smiles, catching her staring, and her heart jumps so she looks away.

“Y'know, you should spend the night over. It's dangerous at night. Loads of people that can try to... _huh_. I suppose they should be more worried about you. You can still sleep here though. If you want.”

Every time, reality sets in with the weight of the information hidden in her pockets.

“It’s fine. I need to go anyway.”

Maybe she should do something stupid and blame the drinks for it.

“Already?”

But then, she also sees the way he looks at her at times like these and thinks, maybe it's better if she doesn't.

“Yes.”

If he asks her to stay, what will she do then?

“Well, we’re meeting Aleksandra next week and _you_ told Path we’d both be there, so come home before then, will you?”

Wraith rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. “I promise.”

 

**Q**

The knife is a familiar weight in her hands.

It’s not comfort, not even a little, but it’s proof that she came from a lineage. This knife meant she had organic parents, that she wasn’t a test tube formed lab rat grown in a Mental Facility as an excuse to put her forever on a leash.

Slipping it into her belt sheath, she peered at the throng of people entering the Drop Ship. Three years. She hoped she could get lucky this time and find something worth pursuing. If not, until when will she be coming back? And what if she manages to scour every inch of the land and never find anything useful? What if she just wasted years and it turns out she's looking at the wrong place? What if in the end, she’s going to di—

A leg pressed against hers, and she glanced at its owner to her left, leaned back against metal wall, eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head, sharing her solace.

One action, not even a word, did more to quiet the wild thoughts than finding an heirloom belonging to her own blood. She relaxed against the side of his body, and he lowered his arms to drape a hand over hers, squeezing gently. They sit there in silence, until the seats are filled and everyone is staring.

 

**R**

_Summary Evaluation of 722:_

_A full neuropsychological evaluation was conducted on 722 following her attempted break out last week and her subsequent sedation at the behest of…”_

Wraith couldn’t breathe.

She remembered them clearly, blood red digits on the door she thought was home. She remembered the attempted break out, the surge of adrenaline at her first taste of freedom the voices allowed her to have before she got too arrogant and ignored them. Then she remembers being cornered, the syringe piercing her skin again and again because she struggled and they can't prick a vein. The world was hazy around her for weeks until she tried again.

“Wraith.”

The optimist in her only hoped for names she could cross reference to the list of employees in the Facility before it was abandoned, but this?

Holy shit. Holy fuck.

_"...it was noted she displayed an increase in preferential use of her left hand despite being right dominant. She has also depicted no signs of rejection from implant, but increased symptoms of ..."_

She yelped at the explosion of pain on her right thigh, buckling to the floor if not for Mirage who was half dragging, half carrying her to the table behind them. Astonishment for the most part, but then she put her arm from his shoulder to his chest and shoved him as hard as she could.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? You’re bleeding everywh—”

“I don’t care if I’m bleeding. I don’t care if I fucking die, let me—”

“—written there ain’t going anywhere—”

“—ever dare do that again, I will—”

“—take even a few minutes of—”

“— _what do you want from me?_ ”

Emotions flitted across his face; surprise, indignation, anger, but it’s…something else that Mirage holds onto.

“Nothing.” He said, swallowing thickly, “I care about you.”

“If you care about me then let me mind my own fucking business. I have the information I need. I've searched for years, Mirage. _Years_. Anything else can wait until I'm done.”

He flinched, staring like he couldn't believe her. “Anything else can...you know what? _Fine_.” His boots rasped on the floor as he turned sharply towards the doorway, and this was the exact moment her heart leapt to her throat.

“Mirage, fucking hell. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.” Wraith clicked her tongue, shoving her hair away from her face, “I’m not going to die from a thigh wound. Why are you acting like this?”

“’Cause I’ve seen you struggle to survive." He swiveled back to her, jaw clenching, "Every time, no matter how much the odds were stacked against us, there ain’t a need to look at you to know you’re also thinking of a way out. A way to win. And then you find this and suddenly it’s more emport—impro— _fuck it_ , more valuable than your life. You’d rather bleed to death than wait until I at least get you patched up. If a team ambushed us here, and they'd have definitely heard us after that last fight, what then? Damn it Wraith. All I’m saying is,” He heaved a bone-weary sigh and looked straight into her eyes, “who could possibly be more important than you?"

All at once, rage ebbed from her system.

They’re staring at each other with heaving chests, shoulders dropping as exhaustion set in, but the only thing she could think of was that she should say something, _anything_.

Instead, Elliott shook his head slowly, unsurprised at her silence, and she didn’t stop him when he walked away again, stalking pass Path and into the adjoined room. The door didn’t slam behind him. Just a quiet click, and the worried face on the MRVN’s display turned into a sad one.

 

**S**

If yesterday didn’t happen, Wraith knows Mirage will probably be whooping right now after what they just pulled off. Sandwiched in the middle by three teams, phasing to portal them out, spreading and finishing them one person a squad.

The fact that they knew each other’s style made it easy for them to work together despite the lack of verbal communication. He’s still professional about the Game—he pings locations, items, enemies, and discusses tactics before they enter. He’s not even avoiding her. When she called out to him before she risked leaving cover, he gave his attention completely, waiting for her to say something. And then the words were stuck in her throat and someone bombed the roof they were in and she had to move.

So there’s still a chance to salvage all of this.

“Friend?” Wraith looked up from recharging her shield and Path’s standing before her, offering a camouflage-patterned scarf? She looked down needlessly because her own was still on her neck, then her eyes scanned the field for—oh.

“Mirage had dropped it earlier.”

She reached out for the cloth, bundling it with both hands, “Did he?”

“No.” Her eyes shot up to the smiling face on Path’s monitor. “He tried to run out for you, friend. I had to stop him. He did not notice when I was returning it after. Of course, there were enemies then. I recommend you be the one to return it as he is looking for it right now.”

It makes sense why he has been looping around his area for the past few minutes.

With a mumbled thank you, she rose from her spot and trudged over to Mirage who was currently peeking into a bush. His head snapped towards her before she’s even within his arm’s length, and took a breath before she offered the weathered fabric.

“Hey.”

“You found it.”

“Path did, actually.”

He nodded, taking the scarf from her hands. “Thanks anyway.”

There was a window of time when she just watched him secure the cloth around his neck, and all she could push out in between is, “It’s a nice scarf.”

“Thank you. It’s my older brother’s. And our older-older brother’s. And our older-older-older brother’s.” He glanced at hers, “Yours isn’t so bad too.”

“Mine’s from a curtain actually. I was in a hurry and it was all I could grab.”

“ _No_.” The horror and curiosity on his face is genuine, “Really?”

“It’s a joke.”

He huffed a laugh, motioning her to join him in cover as he recharged his own shield and...why is this difficult? When have things between them became so complicated that she couldn’t tell him exactly what she thought?

“You have something you want to say?”

Both their eyes were searching the field for any possible threats and Wraith shifted uncomfortably. She had speeches rehearsed in her head, some words she thought about telling him for a long time. She ended up not saying any of those.

 “It’s me. The one I’m looking for. I don’t know who I am. All I remember is waking up in an IMC Facility with voices in my head telling me to trust them. I don’t even know my name, Mirage. I don’t know where I came from or what they did to me, or who my parents are and that's why I'm here. That's what I've been looking for all these years. Answers.

“I never told you because I—to be honest, I didn’t really like you at first, but later on… It was easier not to talk about it. I know it’s not a valid excuse but this is all I have." She remembered thinking, it's okay, "I’m sorry.”

There was a second of excruciating silence, of her not moving a muscle, of not hearing him breathe—and all of a sudden, he’s hugging her with his free arm around her upper back and she has a face full of his scarf. He pressed her tighter against him, breathing deeply.

“Nice to know I’m not the only one who can look like a complete idiot.”

Her eyes snapped into a glare, “I was being—”

“Honest. I know.” His grip around her loosened, and then he’s letting her go, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve—I should’ve respected your choice there. Heck, I've seen how quick you spring into action. I'll never do it again.”

The next breath she drew was lighter, and each exhale set the tightness in her chest free. "So...we're good? Just like that?"

“There are things in life that are meant to be simple. You’re sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t think it should be comptica—ah,” he shrugged a shoulder, “complicated. Besides, I wasn’t—I was more worried than mad.”

Her lips curved into a grin she couldn't contain, "Then we should move."

He rose to his toes, humming, "Think there's a camera pointed at us the whole time?"

"I...really don't want to think about it."

"Ah yes, I forgot feelings disgust you."

"Yes that." She snorted, "And Elliott?"

"Yeah?"

"I can tell you more when this over, if you want."

"I would love that." Warmth blooms in her chest at the joy in the tone of his voice; warmer when he smirked, “Oh, and you need to tell me about how you like me now.”

"Huh? I don't remember saying something like that."

His mouth fell open, following her already several feet ahead, "H-hey now! No taking it back!"

 

**T**

“You’re sure about this.”

“We’re gonna lose if we don’t do something, so trust me.” He raised an eyebrow at her silence, “Wait, you trust me, right?”

“I guess?”

“I feel so offended right now Wraith, you have no idea.”

She snickered and his narrowed eyes brightened—

_Sniper. Move._

Her hand is on Mirage’s arm instantly, yanking him against her into the shade of a concrete pillar. A bullet whizzed past where their head had been, cracking into the side of the mountain.

“Kraber.” Both of them said at the same time, and then glanced at each other.

They’ve gotten into several compromising situations before—it's not the pressure of his hand she can feel on her waist that's making her stomach flip.

He's looking at her in a way she's sure he's going to kiss her, and—and— _what the hell_ is she thinking? They're still in the middle of the game, possibly on enemy crosshair, and why is she even considering this?

“Friends,” Path began at the catwalk above them, “I have located the final squad. Marking the location on your maps.”

“Okay.”, “Gotcha.” They answered at the same time. They stepped away from each other and reached for their primary weapons, moment all but forgotten.

At least, Wraith thought so, because suddenly, Mirage is shoving her shoulder back against the concrete. She only had a second to throw a glare at him before she noticed he was leaning in, and the hand she had against his chest clenched.

“What…”

The words died in her throat; she's staring at him wide-eyed knowing what exactly she _should_ do but she stood unmoving—then she felt the press of his lips against her forehead, lingering for only a second before moving away, red in the face. She knew she wasn’t any better with the blood roaring in her ears.

“What was that for?”

"Good luck,” He winked and then moved ahead, sending his decoy to another direction.

 

**U**

"Were the files useful?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't checked the extent of it yet."

"Why not? Ain't excited?"

"No. Just...nervous."

Elliott frowned, turning away from the view of the Housing Facility rooftop garden, the morning directly after the 127th Apex Games.

"Why would you be nervous?"

“What do I do if the information is correct and I find out what happened to me? What if all this time I’m not alone—"

"You aren't."

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, what if along the way...I meet _them_?"

“Oh. Then you’ll have a family.”

“Wouldn’t it be unfair?”

“How?”

“They already mourned the daughter they lost. Am I supposed to suddenly reappear into their lives?”

“I don’t think anyone who will ever get to know…okay fine, so maybe you do scare some people off. Most people, really. But they’re different. They’re your parents. They’re never going to not love you. They’re—they’re not going to never—you get what I mean.”

“And what if they’re _gone_?”

“What if they ain't? What if they’ve been looking for you all these years?”

“That's bullshit. How can anyone even love a person who wasn’t there the whole time?”

“But you didn’t choose to leave them, did you? You were held from them. Besides, even if you did leave, ain’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“I don’t…understand.”

“Mum always told me we have to let the people we love the freedom to explore their own lives—to let them have the chance to find their own place in the world, to learn and be happy, even if it means it ain't gonna be with us.”

Wraith watches the light of dawn catch on the brandy color of his eyes and she knows, somehow, that there are more to the words he means to say to her. “And for you?”

Elliott smiles softly, “If they find a better life out there, but they still decide they want to come back, and they stay.”

She fiddles with the tight bandages on her hands, “So you’re saying…?”

“You need to try Wraith. Even if it will hurt. That's how love works.”

 

**V**

It happened in the afternoon when the two of them were in the Housing Facility’s Docking Bay waiting for the pre-flight checks to finish. He was talking about the night he first heard of the Apex Games, and she's distracted by the angle of his jaw and the redness of lips, and she blurted out:

“I want to kiss you.”

He halts completely, turning to her with a look between surprise and confusion—that was the moment her own words clicked, sending a jolt in her chest that twisted knots in her stomach.

Oh, fuck.

Oh fuck, but she's already said it and he isn't running away and that's the only reason she took a breathful of determination _—you need to try—_ and leapt across the line she was keeping.

“I’ve wanted to for a very long time and—”

“Me too.”

She's silent for a heartbeat, craning her head to meet his gaze fully. "What?"

Elliott shrugged a shoulder, his lips curving, "I said, I would like to kiss you too."

Here it is—that fragile vulnerability she would never have been capable of feeling for someone else. It would be stupid to put the emotions into words like saying she'll die for him, because he already knows that. It goes beyond that. It goes...

Only when she was reaching for him that she realized her hands were shaking, that she was nervous in all this. If he noticed, he doesn't say anything, and she leaned closer to press her lips against his mouth.

Elliott reacted immediately, catching her hips, holding her firmly, almost hesitantly as if he’s scared she’ll change her mind. His throat bobbed at a swallow, voice dropping into a whisper, “One last time to back out.”

She shook her head, whispering back, “I’m not going to.”

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, tilting his head, half lidded eyes meeting hers one last time before it closes and—

—all at once there is neither the world nor the void, nor the voices in her head; all at once

Wraith _feels_.

She feels the softness of his lips against hers, the scratch of his stubble against her chin; she feels the weightlessness of her stomach, the pounding in her chest and the wild beating of his heart beneath her palm. He drags his hands from her hips to her waist and the small of her back, bringing them closer, and closer still.

It’s when he parts his lips, just slightly, that her entire system is flooded with an intoxicating need to kiss him harder, to stay like this a little longer, to have something other than craving for the past, worrying about the future, or lingering in the time and space between. She drew her head back for half a breath, and he captures her bottom lip between his, sucking lightly and letting go. She does the same, one hand messing his hair as she has always wanted to do, venting all the pent up emotions she’s harbored over the years; and he matches her the way he always does on the field, the way he does when they discuss tactics, when they spar.

And when they parted, it’s because of the need for air and then the realization that they were in fact, still on the Docking Bay where anyone can walk in and see them together.

Yet this—whatever this is—it’s strange but not new, like it’s always existed in the place between them, only, it feels more tangible now.

Elliott presses his forehead against hers, brighter than the world when he smiles, and Wraith finds that she doesn’t really mind.

 

**W**

“What’s with that look on your face?”

Elliott sipped a mouthful of hot cocoa, the heat streaking down his stomach a stark contrast to the air-conditioned room and the downpour of rain they're watching through the clear window panes of his apartment. It's a sunshower around three in the afternoon, and he glanced at Wraith next to him placing her mug on the coffee table and folding her legs underneath her.

“We never talked about the kiss.”

No hint or preamble. Straight to the point. Classic Wraith.

He shrugged, playing it cool despite the heart in his chest taking a deeper beat. "Do you want to?"

"Never would have brought it up if I don't."

"So… What does this mean? We're gonna talk feelings now? Who are you and what have you done to—"

“You know what I think sometimes?” Wraith hummed, and he hates how this whole situation is making him feel like he's a teenager again, fidgeting in inexperience. He isn't inexperienced. He's had loads of experience, most of them explicit and wanton...but none like this. Wait, but won’t that make him inexperienced then? 'Cause never in his whole life has he ever been blow away by something as simple as a kiss. Heck, he can still feel— “I think you're the one who's scared to be honest.”

His trail of thought dissipated at her words, leaving him blinking in surprise. “I’m not scared.”

“Aren’t you, Holographic _Trickster_?”

It's that challenging look on her face that caught him, the same one she always used whenever she wanted to get the rise out of him. Well, then he let it work, leaning closer and brushing his mouth just barely against her ear.

"Do you want me to be honest?"

He smiled as goosebumps broke across her skin, "Yes."

"I've wanted to kiss you the moment you walked into my door."

Elliott watched the scheming look on her face shifted into surprise, redness blooming from her cheeks down her neck.

Maybe he leaned towards her, or she to him, but either way they meet in-between, heart pounding loud in their ears for a second and then finally kissing again.

There was none of the exploratory sweetness they had the first time they kissed. It started deep, more passion than skill but they gained their rhythm quickly, nipping and tugging at each other, testing each other's limits.

It's him who pushed further, running his tongue against her bottom lip. Wraith did the same, parting her mouth to feel him and, shit, does he know how long she's wanted to do this? He opened his mouth, their tongues finally, finally touching, and she made this noise in the back of her throat she couldn't stop. He tasted of cocoa, sweet like how he preferred it and when he pushed into her mouth, she let him taste her before pushing back.

He splayed a hand on her thigh, sliding it up to her waist, tugging her towards him. Wraith rose up on her knees and climbed on his lap, their lips never parting. She felt thoroughly surrounded by him—his warmth, his smell, his touch roaming her side and her back, never anywhere beneath her shirt but _when he did_ , just a light scratch of his nails at her hip, sent a quick jolt through her body that had her core clenching.

His fingers tugged on her scarf and she helped him get rid of it, feeling it caught between her ankle and his leg before slipping to the floor. He kissed her one, two, three times before dropping his lips to her neck, planting light butterfly kisses, until he reached her pulse point and sucks.

She gasped and the hand on her hips clenched as he exhaled sharply. He sucks once more and when she moved her hips again, he grinded up against her that had them both moaning.

It was hard to stop then, with the pleasure building in their guts. Wraith felt his stomach cave under her hands and he takes off his shirt, leaving her grasping on his muscled arms as he leaned back against the rest and adjusted her where they needed each other most—

"Fuck." She whispered and that seemed to have snapped him, because he said in a rasp:

"Wraith. Wait—wait."

She stopped immediately, concerned but finding it very hard to stay focus.

"Shit. I—uh, we don't have to do this now, I—I mean, fast? Like, like aren't you...?"

"What is it?"

"Aren't—don't, you don't think this is fast?" He licked his lips, sliding his hand down to her thigh. He looks suddenly unsure, and doubt began to creep in into her system. Did she over step? He turned his head away and she realized he isn't unsure about _this_. He's unsure _for her_.

"Tell me?"

Elliott looked back at her and said, “I love you. I knew since the night I mentioned liking the Core World constellations, and you said we can invent new ones.  Do you remember? You told me you also loved the stars.”

People think Wraith's hard to read because they never really got a chance to study her. For all her disposition in stealth, her emotions are clean on her face. From the contemplative look in her eyes, the scrunch on her eyebrow, and kiss-stained lips frowned in confusion. “That was more than two years ago.”

"Two years.” He echoed. “I can wait a lot longer. I just—I don’t want you to think this is a casual hook up to me. Well, unless that’s what _you_ want, in which case I’ll also be okay with that but it’s—I’m—did I say that right? See, this is why I try not to be honest. I completely ruined this with feelings, haven't I?"

"You didn't." The half-undone bun on top of her head swayed as she shook her head, "Elliott, me too."

His heart soared, and he had half a mind to ask her to maybe repeat that or tell him in full, but he knows what she meant anyway. He kisses her again, all thought of skills burned away by passion leaving only the single-minded intent to make her feel good. "Stay the night? We don't have to—”

"We can.”

Surprise crossed his features, morphing quickly into a mischievous grin. He wrapped an arm around her with the other supporting her legs around his waist, and she yelped when he stood up, “What are you doing?”

“Bed. You don't honestly think settee's gonna be enough for tonight, do you?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully, holding on to his shoulders as he stepped towards his room. “I don’t know, I was starting to get comfortable.”

Elliott bit on her neck, and Wraith knew whatever happens in the future, she’ll never forget the sound of his laugh at that moment, “Then we’ll do it there next time.”

 

**X**

This is how his heart breaks in seconds: 

“I have to go. I don’t know if I can come back.”

She’s standing on the doorway of his bedroom, dressed in full combat gear with a hand on the frame as if debating whether or not proximity is a good idea. It's been just days since she started living here, so he could only blink and then swallow and then blink some more, and the first word he says was “What?” when all he really wanted to ask was, _why?_

“One of Blisk’s contacts has been helping me piece together the information I gathered across King’s Canyon. Turns out, the documents weren’t just left in the open on purpose waiting for people to discover them. It decrypts into a string of coordinates.” She shifted from foot to foot, “They have a new base of operations, Mirage. In Gridiron.”

“I can come with you.” He’s off the bed and halfway to her before he could even finish talking.

The expression on her face didn’t even waver, "I can't let that."

"Why not?" He drew his head back in confusion. Hurt too.

“ _Because_ ,” Wraith clicked her tongue, pacing the small space outside the room, “you have a life here Mirage. You still have your mother and Path. You have jobs, a reputation to keep, friends and fans that will miss you.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “And you don’t?”

She let out an exasperated sigh, stopping and staring at him like she's begging him to understand, “You can’t leave all that behind—”

“And I ain’t lettin’ you go alone. If something happens to you, I can’t—I, I don’t—I can’t let that happen, Wraith.”

“I can’t let you get hurt either, for something that has to do with me.” She shoved her locks away from her face, cheeks reddened in exertion, “This wouldn’t be securing the future, you would die for my fucked up past and I can’t have that because you deserve _so much_ I can’t give right now.”

“I don’t want so much.” He said, “I just want you to stay."

" _Don't say that_." Wraith flinched away from him, and whatever visage of agitation shifted into another emotion entirely. An emotion he saw on her only once before, at the hut when he was hostaged on his knees with a Peacekeeper trained on his skull—fear.

She’s afraid and that _hurt_ more than it should.

He exhaled evenly, rubbing a palm across his face. If he forced her to stay, he would be clipping her wings. Sure she would eventually be happy—and he'll do everything to make her happy—but she'll never be quiet for the rest of her life. There will always be a void she'll struggle against and towards at the same time; a xenolith in her constantly threatening to rip her apart. This is something she has to deal with herself. It’s just…

He looked her in the eye. "What was the purpose of this? Why did you tell me if you're not going to let me come?"

“I don’t want you to think I abandoned you, that I went away and decided never to come back.”

It occurred to him they’ve been in a similar situation before as Wraith finally moved closer, for a second looking like she was worried he'll pull away from her. He didn't. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and neck, wrapping arms around his midsection in a tight hug.

"I promise I'll—"

“You don’t have to promise me anything.”

She exhaled shakily, raising her head again and giving him the familiar look of determination he so steadily fell in love with, "I'll come back."

He wished she’s never said that.

None of the people who told him that ever came back.

 

**Y**

Elliott didn't have a slight fear for abandonment, he's terrified of it. He thought if he never took relationships seriously then he'll never get hurt. He’s lived through three decades and understands there are heartbreaks—the kind that had him nursing liquor for days—and then there are _heartbreaks_. The kind that lingers yearning in the corner of a person’s soul, that festers and destroys until all that’s left is a caustic shell from the sunshine they used to be. He’s seen what it does to people, hell, he grew up watching what it did to his mum. So, figures that of all the people he has ever met, the only one he has ever let in happened to be someone he can never hold on to.

But then again, this has always been how their relationship worked, hasn’t it? In the end, she always leaves, and he always waits for her to come back.

It’s just that this time, he doesn’t know when, or how. But Wraith always comes back.

 

**Z**

When the knock came, he just got out of shower, rubbing a towel messily on his head. He didn't even consider wearing a shirt with his sweat pants because why bother? It's just the take-out he ordered. He shouted a, "Just a sec," bare feet padding across tiled floor, throwing the door open muttering, "You guys better not have overcooked the leviathan steak this..."

Only it wasn't the delivery man.

And he wished he made himself presentable ‘cause holy shit it’s _Wraith—_ his whole system melted into an emergency shutdown leaving him clutching on the door knob and gaping at her still not quite there enough to believe this is _real_.

"Hi." She said, offering a tentative smile.

Two months and eleven days of radio silence, longer since he last saw her. The first thing he noticed was the large gash from above her left eyebrow down the corner of her eye, slashing down the top of her left cheek. There's a gel patch on her nose, split lip healing, and a dark purple bruise covering her entire right jaw. More bandages peeked from beneath her shirt and it's the first time he notices she forgone her scarf, settling for a grey shirt, dark denim, and her gun belt.

"What happened to your scarf?"

Wraith blinked. It doesn't seem to be the question she's expecting, and frankly he's surprised at himself too.

"It got caught in a courier door."

He crinkled his nose, "No way."

"Yes way." She nodded, "It almost strangled me to death. I had to shred it just to get free."

"And your eye?"

That wiped the small grin playing on her lips. She shrugged, “Someone tried to gouge it out."

“Someone tried to gouge—” Anger surged through his veins on her behalf but she’s giving him this look almost pleading and he sighs, letting go but not forgetting. “Of course, _you_ would make it sound like it’s not a big deal.”

“We match now.”

"Yeah but I can pull it off." He gestured for her to enter his place, closing the door with a click behind her.

A snort, "And I can't?"

"I'm prettier than you."

She burst out into a laugh and he grinned—but the moment broke at the sight of her suddenly clutching her stomach and groaning.

“What— _fuck_ Wraith, are you okay?”

He approached, a hand on her shoulder waiting until she lifts her head again.

"Yes. But don't make me laugh I just got my stomach stitched up several hours ago."

“You should be in the hospital.” He clicked his tongue, "Or this never would have happened if you brought me along. Do you understand how _gut wrenching_ it is to see you like this?”

Wraith snickered and then groaned again, “Stop. You didn’t even try.”

“Ha, but I got you smiling haven’t I?” With a tap on her lower back, she nodded, and he brought an arm around her back and the other at her upper thighs, hauling her into the air in a bridal carry to the settees in his living room. "You should message Path you’re back, by the way. I ran into him this week.”

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he and Aleksandra are deciding to take a vacation around next month. They offered if we wanted to come with them.”

"Why didn't you?"

"You…” He paused, “might come home around the time and I might miss you."

She stilled in his arms and he knew the implication of his own words; how he would drop his own life to wait for hers. He knew how destructive it sounds, how unhealthy. That’s why he isn’t really surprised to see her frowning when he lowered them against comforter and sat next to her.

She reached for his hands and he took her digits between his fingers, planting a kiss on the back of a bandaged palm. "That's exactly the bullshit I was hoping you wouldn’t do."

“See, that’s the thing. You think telling me you were leaving me behind to keep me safe was supposed to what, make me happy? Relieved? ‘Cause it didn’t. There wasn’t a day I wished you’d be okay and that I made the right decision.”

“What decision?”

“To let you go,” He said softly, “alone ‘cause it’s what you wanted. That I didn't fight for following you. Doesn’t mean I liked it, or I ever will.”

Wraith's lips pressed together on a thin line, eyebrows furrowing and she made this soft noise almost like a sob, dropping her head on his shoulder.

“You know the Frontier War? That’s where I came from. I was a GEN 10 Pilot at its height but my Titan was destroyed and I lost my left arm. As far as I discovered, something went wrong with the regeneration process. I ended up in the mental facility as a test subject for phase tech, because, and I’m quoting them here, terminating 2419-0722 would have been a waste of resources.”

_That_ was a lot to take in at once, and he hugged her firmly but gently against him.

She was a pilot. In the Frontier War. Her Titan was destroyed and it got her left arm. She was a test subject, he knows, but her abilities came from experimented phase tech? The same kind of tech that can only be used by simulacrum pilots for a reason? What the actual _fuck_.

“What about your family?”

“I never had any. I was named Jane Doe in an orphanage in Proxima Centauri b, a planet in one of the Core Worlds. We were recruited in bulk at a young age and promised a better life. My kunai… It was a defective Pulse Blade my captain allowed me to keep. It wasn’t an heirloom. It has always been mine.”

“Motherfucker.” He exhales harshly, forcing his voice to stay calm, but he’s shaking, “I don’t know how to—I’m not just angry Wraith, I am _fucking furious_ why this had to—”

“It’s okay, it’s done Elliott.” He could feel her hands clenching, “The experiment is over. I destroyed everything, blew up facilities, took down the people I had to, and...” She swallowed thickly, “I’m here now.”

It is his turn to feel his eyebrows furrow. There is more she means to the words she just said, her exhale tickling the side of his neck before meeting his questioning eyes.

“You told me I’ll know if I come back. I’m here. I came back.”

_Oh_.

His stomach churned, for a moment feeling like he couldn't breathe. "Oh. Are you—are you staying this time? Because. You know, I just—I just want to know. So, I know.”

“I will, if you want me to?”

“Of course.” He huffed a nervous laugh, and it takes the feeling of her thumb brushing his scarred cheek for him to calm over the coaster of emotions, “I’d prefer if you stay.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

“What, just like that?”

She nodded, “Just like that. ”

There should be a metaphor in all this: of how little things add up to big things like letters form words. And how words, like moments in our lives, form sentences and then paragraphs into chapters that make up who we are.

Elliott wonders if it began at the artillery, where he saw her horrified when his decoy was gunned down, or in the darkness of his room when she pulled him away from his nightmares. But then, he thinks it doesn’t matter whether they are just approaching the zenith or have passed it already—she’s here to stay, he’ll never leave, and they’ll be okay—with Wraith’s palms beautifully warm against his cheeks, and the smile he returns to the one she offers into a kiss.

 

 

 

"I'm still bothered by all of it. I might be for some while. But I'm glad you're safe and you're here."

"That's fair."

He hums, "I think you should try to make up for it."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno, I was thinking, a week in my bed? Maybe longer. Ah, after you're fully healed of course.” He bites the shell of her ear, savoring the shiver and the goosebumps that flits across her skin, “Unless you want to do it now, in which case, _I can be very gentle_."

She grins, shaking her head lightly. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it.” He laughs, pressing another kiss to her temple.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> I tried tying all the plot lines I've opened up, so please tell me if I missed some.  
> Special thank to thank the gods and the All Father I managed to finish editing this behemoth.

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 is done save for editing x and z


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